


Little Talks

by CrazedPanda



Series: Home Is Whenever I'm With You [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Impending Heat, Omega Verse, Panic Attacks, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Y/N wakes up. Some fluff. Lots of talking. They're interesting (I think), vital, important, talks, but yeah. What happened when she was kidnapped, Y/N's past, Heat talk. I squished them into one chapter because I didn't want you to have to wait any longer for the heat chapter than necessary - I'm thinking of you!(Heat chapter is written! It's 3k words of smut to make up for this chapter, if the dialogue seemed like a lot. I just need to get it polished up for you. I'll say give me a week, I'll try my best to have it out by then)A huge thank you to my dear betas Edge_of_Clairvoyance and  ToscaRosetti for their help and encouragement getting these chapters written and polished.





	Little Talks

She was having the most delicious dream. If it were possible, she would pray to whatever god or angel would listen that she never woke up. She knew there were things waiting for her out there, things that she didn't want to remember. Or maybe she was in heaven! Maybe she would never have to wake up again. 

Or . . . there was a crick in her neck. Should there be one if this was a dream? She didn't think you could get neck cricks in heaven. Despite the small discomfort, she still smelled him, still felt safer than she had . . . not just the past week, but - well, ever. It was more than safety: it was right. Almost perfect.  
A faint sensation made her open her eyes. Waking was even better than the dream. She had her head resting against Sam's thigh and she'd been slightly jostled when he had sighed in his sleep. The vague memories of the day before came back to her and she realized this was the waking world and not some fantasy she'd conjured to cope with the terror of her captivity. 

Sam was still propped against the headboard. His eyes were closed, of course, and she didn't like that on a number of levels, but in his sleep his forehead had smoothed out and all the tension and weight was gone. He looked at least ten years younger. She thought he was unbearably beautiful. She wished she hadn't fought so hard to stay under, but she'd had no way of knowing this was what she would wake up to. 

A small noise caught her attention and she looked for the source, too content to be alarmed. Dean was looking at her from the armchair with amusement and - a mixture of other emotions she couldn't place. 

“Hey,” his voice was a low murmur. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm . . . good.” she could feel the grin breaking across her face and Dean chuckled. 

“I can see that. I don't know the last time he's slept this deeply.” he nodded toward his brother. “It's cause you're here, you know.”

She was a little - well she didn't know, equal parts happy, sad, embarrassed, touched, by this information, but then something caught her attention. “What about you, didn't you get any sleep?”

He scoffed, “I got plenty of shuteye while you two were out, you don't need to worry about me.”

She searched his face for a second, then gave him a small smile, “You don't fool me, Dean. Just, try to get some sleep later, okay? Or I will worry.”

He scoffed and looked away for a second, deciding on a change of subject, “You hungry?”

She was torn, but she couldn't lie to him. “Yeees, but Dean, please. I don't want you to go.”

“We'll go together, then. What do you say, Sam? I'll even put some of that nasty rabbit food in your omelette.” She turned to see Sam was just blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

They led her along a long hallway of numbered doors, through a maze of other rooms and finally into a kitchen. She didn't have time to fully focus on everything they were passing, not with Sam a step behind her, arm occasionally brushing against hers, and the arches of Dean’s back a few feet in front of her. The place smelled like old books and a tangle of other, fainter, odors, but _their_ scent permeated everything. She hoped she'd get a chance to explore later. 

Her stomach growled and Dean turned to her with a smirk. “Why don't you sit down; we'll get that taken care of for you?”

She wanted to protest - she could help - but she could sense their desire to do this for her, so she slid onto the nearest stool seat with a smile. “Okay, thank you!” 

“Don't thank me yet. Sam, you want to put on some coffee and get some toast started? I'll make the omelettes.” She occupied her time looking around the eclectic kitchen and admiring the way the boys always seemed to know where the other was without looking, moving around the space like they'd rehearsed it. 

Dean tried to get her to eat her omelette as soon as it came out, but she shook her head - cringing internally at the effort it took to voice her preference and not succumb to the pull deep in her belly that demanded she immediately comply - “Please, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it, I'd rather wait till you can join me?” 

“Alright, you win, I'll hurry it up here.”

The breakfast was divine. Maybe it was because her hunger made the food taste better. Maybe it was the way Dean could tell she was amused by their banter and played up teasing Sam about the spinach and mushrooms he'd requested in his omelette. Maybe it was the relief from the week of horror she'd experienced - she was still not ready to examine any of those memories and shoved the thought away. Maybe it was because if waking up to the sight of a sleeping Sam was almost perfect, sitting around the table sharing a homey meal with the two of them achieved that perfection, temporarily quieting the restless part of her that had been more and more insistently clamoring for attention. 

When they had all finished, Dean started clearing up and she tried to protest. “I've got this, Sam's gonna help you find some clean clothes and you can take a shower. I'm betting you need one. Uh, not that you . . . I mean -” he looked mildly embarrassed and she couldn't help but laugh. 

“A shower would be wonderful; thank you so much!”

The shower was indeed wonderful. The pressure of the streams of water was almost too much, relaxing her muscles and making her feel more human. Sam had dug her up some slightly loose-fitting old fashioned overalls out of a closet somewhere - they smelled a bit odd, but clean - and gave her one of his tees to wear under it. She emerged from the shower room, toweling her hair. 

Catching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of the figure leaning against a nearby door jam, she jumped, cringing against the wall. She recovered quickly; she hadn't needed to see the shocked and tortured look in his eyes to know she'd overreacted - that it was her Sam. He'd just taken her by surprise is all. She felt horrible, but the damage was done. 

She stretched a hand toward him, tears already springing to her eyes, “Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry!”

He looked at her hand like it was a snake, then he met her gaze as if it took him a huge effort. “Are, are you sure? I can get Dean, you don't have to . . . You deserve to feel safe, you don't have to be brave for me - to keep from hurting my feelings or something, do you understand me?”

She tried to hide the fact she'd started trembling, but she was certain he'd noticed. She couldn't believe she'd screwed up this badly. 

“Hey. What hap- Y/N, are you alright?” Dean had appeared around the corner, his voice switching from alarm to soothing and gentle as he assessed the situation.

She didn't trust her voice, but she nodded. 

She could tell they were sharing a look over her head and she was suddenly overwhelmed. Dean must have seen because he cautiously came as close as possible without touching her and she closed the gap, twisting her fingers into his shirt. He put his hands out to support her and spoke in a low alpha rumble, “What do you need? We'll do it. You call the shots here." He paused, “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me, honestly, if it would help you if Sam went away -” he held up a hand at her wordless noise of protest “Just for right now, okay?”

She looked into his face as he'd ordered and forced herself to calm down enough to answer. “No, it wouldn't help, it helps when he's here. When he goes away I don't know who he is anymore.” Damn it, she was responding too strongly to Dean - his stipulation to be honest had caused her to spill more than she'd intended. 

“Okay.” Dean hesitated, “Let's take this somewhere we can all get comfortable, do you think you can walk alright?”

“Yes,” she kept ahold of his shirt with one hand and he threw one of arms around her shoulders. She stretched her other hand behind her and was trying to look back to see if Sam was following when he carefully gripped her hand and she let out a sigh of relief. She didn't let go as Dean led them back to the kitchen. 

Dean indicated that she was to sit and she looked up at him in trepidation. “I'm not going anywhere, kid, just grabbing us some more coffee. I for one am gonna need something if we're gonna get into this.” he tried for a careless smirk and she reluctantly let him go and sat in the same seat she had at breakfast. Sam sat directly next to her since she still had a death grip on his hand. 

Dean returned with three steaming mugs and sat down on her other side. They each took a sip and she could feel Dean taking a deep breath, his calming alpha pheromones releasing some of the tension vibrating around the table. 

“Alright. I don't want to push you to talk about anything you're not ready to, but it seems in order to properly help you, there are some things we need to know. I know . . .” He hemmed awkwardly then pressed on, “I don't want to force you to say anything, so I need you to listen to me now: any questions Sam or I ask you, answering them is a request, not an order. If it'll be too hard or too painful for you to answer, I need you to say, ‘pass’. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” she tried to inject the one word with all the relieved gratitude she was feeling. She had no doubt he could tell by now that her hormones were going haywire. Most alphas would have seen it as a blessing that she was going to be more pliable for them, but here Dean was putting safeguards in place to keep her free will as intact as possible. 

 

“Okay, good. Um, here I got one for you. An easy one to start off with, okay? How big of a dork do you think Sam is for asking for grass stems in his omelette?”

She was so surprised she actually felt a nervous chuckle bubble up from her lungs. She twined the fingers of her free left hand in between those of Dean's right. “Um, pass.” she gave Sam as sassy a smirk as she could manage and he huffed in shocked amusement. 

Dean brushed her hand with his thumb, “Fair enough.” He cleared his throat, when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “You said you don't know who Sam is when he goes away, could you explain that?”

She was quiet for a minute just feeling their hands in hers, breathing slow breaths in time with theirs. “He looked like Sam. But it wasn't him.” her voice felt like it was coming from somewhere else. 

It was Sam who spoke this time, a bit hoarsely, “You're right. You're right, it wasn't me . . . But how did you know?”

“She let out a nervous laugh. “I didn't. I figured I was crazy; that I was just too weak to accept the truth. But then, I thought . . .” she deliberated with herself and then went on, staring fixedly at her two hands laid out in front of her, each still gripping one of theirs. “I thought I was going to die. So I decided why not hold onto my delusions. If my brain was going to tell me it wasn't you, that he smelled wrong, and his eyes were wrong, and you aren't capable of . . . That you would never hurt me; I've only ever felt safe with you. Then why should I bother? Why not hold onto a little white lie that made it easier to cope?” she took a deep shuddering breath. 

“But then you showed up and I saw your eyes; the way you looked when you saw me, and I knew I had been right all along. Scenting you just confirmed it. Sometimes - especially when I can't see you for a minute - I'm not one hundred percent certain and I have to just confirm for myself it's really you. I didn't mean to, you were in the shadow of the door frame and for a second, I just wasn't sure. I'm so sorry.”

Sam lightly squeezed her hand. “Can you look at me, please? You can ‘pass’ on that too if you need to . . .” 

She looked up and she could see his eyes were glossy with unshed tears. He gave her a small smile, “You are incredible. You don't have anything to apologize for, I promise. I'm alright. I just don't want to hurt you any more than you've already been, okay?”

She nodded. 

Dean squeezed her hand on the other side. “I'm gonna be right back. Less than two minutes; you can time me, okay?”

She forced herself to release his hand and unconsciously leaned a little closer to Sam as her eyes tracked Dean's exit from the kitchen. 

She was tempted to count, but she instead chose to keep her focus on the warm heartbeat she could feel with her right wrist leaning on Sam's, the long calloused fingers in hers, the sound of his breathing. Dean returned with something clenched in his left hand. He sat back down and carefully laid his right hand on the table, so it was available if she wanted to hold it again, but not like he was demanding it of her. 

She slid her fingers back in between his and he looked like he was trying to hide how pleased this made him. He cleared his throat and started speaking in a low, even tone. “Well, it's like Sam said, you weren't delusional. That thing that took you is called a shapeshifter. They can make themselves look like just about anybody. That one had a grudge against Sam and me, so they took you to try and hurt us.”

He paused. She felt tears forming again, “I'm sorry.”

“Hey! No! No. This is absolutely not your fault, you hear me?”

“Yes, Dean.” she made an effort to get herself back under control. 

“I'm just telling you what happened cause you deserve to know. It's dead - it's not gonna be hurting you or anyone else ever again - but if you wanted to blame us for bringing this on you, for not doing a better job at protecting you after we put you in harm's way, that would be within your rights.”

She looked up at him, horrified. She could only manage to shake her head. 

“That's fine, but I'm just saying it'd be a valid feeling. If you find yourself feeling or thinking anything along those lines _at any time,_ I need you to know that's okay.” he held her gaze for a second, but didn't seem to expect a reply. 

He went on, “But there was another reason I wanted to tell you a little bit about shifters. See, their main weakness is silver. When we hunt em, we use silver bullets, but anything silver will burn em if you touch them with it.” He curled his left arm toward her across the table and opened his hand so she could see what was nestled in his palm. It was a silver ring, just a thin plain doubled band with tiny etchings around it.

She loosened her left hand from his, but couldn't quite make herself reach toward it. 

Dean must have seen her uncertainty, “Is it okay if I . . ?”

She felt herself nod and watched, mesmerized as he slid it onto her pointer finger. “I figured any time you weren't sure, you could know with a touch.”

“This can't be for me.”

“Of course it's for you. The bunker's got shelves full of stuff like that. It's probably just silver plated or something, but it'll do the trick. And if it gives you a little extra peace of mind . . . well, then it's yours.”

She placed her hand back inside his and tried to stem the sudden flow of tears. Dean looked taken aback, like he wasn't sure what to do and she let out a short chuckle. “I'm okay, sorry. I'm just . . . hormonal. Thank you, Dean. This was-” She choked back her emotion, “very sweet.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about regarding anything that happened, or that you think we should know?”

She swallowed, then shook her head. 

“Well, if you think of something, or if you're ever scared or there's anything you need, you can come to us any time and we'll do our best to help. Will you please keep that in mind?”

“Yes, Sam.”

He took a deep breath, looking somber, and a little concerned. “I know we just got done with one tough subject, and it would be nice to take a breather, but if you can, I think we should talk about your heat next - I'm worried the more we wait, the less likely you'll be able to tell us with full clarity what you need, and the more difficult it will be for us to make it happen in time. Is . . . is that okay?”

She found her breathing picking up, but she wasn't sure why she was nervous, exactly. “Um, yes, I can do that.”

Dean interjected, “Uh, can I - Who is your legal Alpha?”

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to maintain eye contact , “I was emancipated six years ago. My mother was my legal alpha. She and my father . . . There were multiple reasons I decided to leave their protection.”

Sam went into immediate alert, his eyes flashing. His voice was almost a growl, “They _hurt_ you?”

“N-no . . . not -" she sighed. “Their ideas of how to handle an omega consist of keeping them subjugated, not allowing them their own opinions or voice, providing constant discipline and fulfillment through serving their every whim. I guess there are some omegas that thrive in that environment. I couldn't stay in that house another second. After that day in the courthouse, they cut me off. We haven't spoken since.”

Sam's exhale was shaky, “Oh. I'm sorry.”

She smiled sadly, “I'm okay.”

“You've, um, been on suppressants ever since?”

She nodded. 

Sam dragged his right hand through his hair. “Is there maybe a clinic you've been to, or-"

She clutched at his hand, jerked as if she were going to spring from the seat, then shrank back into it trembling. She looked from one to the other in a panic, “Don't - _please!_ \- Please don't send me to one of those places, please promise me!”

 _"Hey!”_ Dean gripped her right shoulder and slightly turned her to focus on him. “Listen to me, ‘Mega. We are not going to take you somewhere or force you into a situation where you don't feel safe. We got you. You don't want to go there, then you won't. You hear me?” 

She could feel her anxiety lessen as he spoke. She nodded, “Yes, Dean.”

“Good.”

A sensation of complete calm washed over her. He released her shoulder and she looked up at Sam, chagrined. He tried to smile reassuringly, but he was clearly still worried about her. Whether it was more about her reaction or about the situation in general, she wasn't sure.

When Sam spoke again, it was very gently, “Isn't there anyone you can trust? Somewhere you know you'd be safe?”

She gazed at him for a second, wondering if he was joking. She looked down before answering; she couldn't bear to see his reaction. “Yeah. I'm safe here. With you.”

The silence seemed to stretch for a very long time. She didn't even hear any breathing.

Finally Sam gave a shuddering sigh, “Are you sure?”

She looked up at him, but his features were schooled so she couldn't see how he felt about her confession. She gave a small nod, “Yes.”

Dean was immediately up and out of his seat, having broken free from her grip. “Alright, perfect, we have a plan. I'm gonna go on a provision run, stock up on food and whatever else you two will need for the next - better make it a week, just to be safe. Then I'm gonna scoot, I'll probably hole up in Rufus’s cabin or somewhere. Sam, you can text me when it's safe to come back . . . “ He broke off mid-ramble and his whole demeanor changed to gentle concern, “Y/N, what's wrong?”

To her horror she'd burst into tears. Dean reached out as if to touch her, but stopped short with his hand palm down on the table in front of her. 

She shook her head, “Pass.”

Sam and Dean started holding one of their wordless conversations above her head and it annoyed her a little. She was able to get herself under control enough to whisper, “I meant both of you.”

She could feel both of their shocked attention fully on her now, but she couldn't look up. She was filled with nauseating shame at how badly she’d screwed this all up and suddenly just felt utterly alone.

A warm, solid hand settled on her left shoulder. “Mega.” Dean's voice sounded a little shaken, but it was soothing. “You did everything right; Told us what you needed, exactly what we asked you to do. Can - I need to talk to Sam real quick so we can see if there's a way we can make this happen and everyone stays safe. But I need you to know no one's upset. We're gonna do our best, okay? That I can promise. Are you okay if we just go out of the room for one minute? We'll be right down the hall.”

She nodded, trying to be alright with it. They weren't abandoning her; they weren't disappointed in her. 

He handed her his phone. “Can you do me a favor? Can you make me a list of everything you can think of you might need from your apartment - clothes, anything else? Somebody can run over and get it for you, be back well before your heat hits.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Good girl.”

Sam squeezed her hand one more time and tried to make it clear to her with a look that he signed off on everything Dean had said, but he still couldn't manage to speak. He had no idea what would come out if he did. He stood and followed Dean's receding back down the hall. 

They slipped into a small storage room and Sam closed the door behind him. Dean was already watching him like he was waiting for him to explode. “Don't, Dean. If this is what she needs, I'll find a way to be okay with it.”

“Yeah, you say that, but you're also looking at me like you're contemplating going for my throat.”

“We've played together before. I mean, most of those were four ways, but there was that time time in Milwaukee.”

“You didn't care about any of them. It's not the same. You know it's not.”

“What do you want me to say? I can smell her heat coming on and my wolf wants her. I want to take her, knot her, claim her - the thought of you touching her makes me see red. But none of that matters! She was basically forced into this heat against her will because she was kidnapped - and that only happened because I screwed up at every turn. If she says she needs both of us to help her feel safe while she gets through it, what the hell am I gonna tell her? ‘No, sorry you're on your own. Seeing you with my brother is going to hurt my feelings and I have no control over my wolf.’

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I know. Calling a timeout was mostly so we could get it all out without upsetting her. I'm sorry about this, Sam.”

Sam did a double take. His eyes widened. “You're sorry? Wait, what? Do - do you like her?”

Dean's head shot up, “What are you talking about, dude? Have you met her?! Of course I like her.”

“You do.” he felt bile rise in his throat. Seeing the desperation that soaked through Dean's forced nonchalance, Sam could tell he had seriously fallen for her. 

Dean didn't answer for a long moment, apparently finding the pattern on the floor fascinating. Finally he forced himself to meet Sam's eyes, “I would never have . . . _never_ , Sam. You gotta know that. Even if I _had_ thought she might be into me - I knew how you felt about her.” 

Fuck. Pretending they were just clinically providing her with the necessary aid she had asked for was going to kill both of them. It didn't make him feel better about any of it, but concern for his brother was a small distraction against the furious snarls of ' _mine!’_ that had been repeating in his head ever since she'd voiced her wishes. He swallowed it all down. “So what's the plan?” 

Dean didn't like to dwell in these “chick flick moments” and he looked up at Sam's matter of fact question with relief. “Well, she's coming off of this traumatic experience, and we're going to be focused on trying to placate our wolves and keep them from either going at it or putting a claim on her. I figure we keep letting her call the shots.”

“I can deal with that. No one marks her.”

“No one marks her.”

Sam nodded, opened the door, and walked back down the hall without sparing Dean another glance.

He lingered a second in the doorway to take in the taught, hunched lines of her shoulders, and the way her hands trembled slightly as she continued at the task Dean had set for her. He purposely made a small noise with his boot on the floor so he could approach without scaring her. 

She looked into his face and he gave her a chagrined half smile. “It's me.” he didn't know how helpful saying that would be, but he had to try. “I'm sorry I upset you - that really took me by surprise - but, it's all good, you don't have to worry. We'll take care of you, okay?”

He didn't deserve the way her whole body relaxed at his words, or the heartbreaking smile she gave him, but she deserved whatever comfort he could give her.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat, “I'm almost done with this.” 

“Awesome.” Dean was leaning against the door jam. “I'll run and get it, pick up some food and stuff on the way back. I won't be gone long, I promise.”

She had started to react to the news he was leaving, but she nodded at his reassurance and hid any residual sign of her distress by returning to her list. His heart clenched at her strength and the trust she placed in them, while the wolf raged that it was currently directed toward Dean. Oh yes. This was going to hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to mention that if you don't prefer smut, I will be doing my best to relegate it to its own chapters, so you can enjoy without missing much of the plot.
> 
> The next chapter is pretty much all smut. If that's not your cup of tea, you can skip reading it without effecting your ability to follow along when the following chapter is posted
> 
> I suppose the transverse will also be true: you could just read the smut chapters without really having to know what's going on, lol. 
> 
> This is actually my main purpose on making these different works in a series - the tags are separate and you can chose which parts you wish to read (as opposed to creating chapters in a work where it will just show the accumulative tags for the entire fic)


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